‘My fancy is a wall between myself and truth.  There is a world of the fancy into which I constantly plunge and out of which I seldom completely emerge.  I want every day to be absorbingly interesting and exciting to me and if it will not, I, with my fancy, try to make it so.  If you, a stranger, come into my presence there is a chance that for a moment I shall see you as you are but in another moment you will be lost.  You say something that starts my fancy working and I am off.  To-night perhaps I shall dream of you.  We will have fancied conversations.  My fancy will throw you into strange, noble- or perhaps even mean situations.  Now I have no scruples.  You are my rabbit and I am a hound pursuing you.  Even your physical being changes under the driving lash of my fancy.’

- S.Anderson

‘-A bed witnesses our birth and it witnesses our death; it is the ever-changing theater where the human species enacts, by turns, engaging dramas, ridiculous farces, and horrible tragedies.- It is a cradle decked with flowers;- it is love’s throne;- it is a sepulcher.’

- X.Maistre

‘Come now, my dear Celeste, surely it must be dull to live only at night, with an invalid.’

- C.Albaret